


Fortune Favours the Bold

by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Amoneki Week, Implied Relationship, M/M, amoneki week day 1, new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5638432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory/pseuds/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people hope the New Year is kind to somebody who needs it.</p><p>(Amoneki Week Day 1: New Year's)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Favours the Bold

Standing transfixed in the middle of the ( _thankfully closed_ ) street, Amon watched the snow swirl down and settle on the roof of the shrine by his apartment. He’d forgotten it was New Year’s – all the cases he’d been assigned to had consumed his every waking hour. Now that he was headed home for the night however, there was a festival in full swing and he had to take a moment to figure out what was happening.   
  
When had he last celebrated the New Year? Everybody always spent it with their families, so there was no one to drag him out ( _as they did for every other holiday_ ). Maybe it had been years.   
  
Amon fiddled with the cross around his neck, letting the metal ( _warmed from being tucked against his chest_ ) ease the chill in his fingers. The last New Year’s celebration he could remember had not been for the Japanese New Year at all ( _instead, it held true to traditions that his Fa_ -).   
  
Perhaps he should join in on the festivities. It would be nice to overwrite old memories with…things that didn’t leave a sour taste in his mouth ( _eerily reminiscent to sparkling wine_ ).  
  
As a lumbering man of over 6 feet, Amon stood out amongst the crowd of revelers, strolling from food stalls to game booths and back again. The food was delicious and he soon found himself winning all manner of toys for the children dashing between his legs, in and out of the crowd while their parents called after them.   
  
One child with sleek black hair and a shy pinched smile reminded him of someone he knew, and Amon found himself at a shooting game, winning the largest and fuzziest prize ( _a dragon larger than the child himself_ ). The kid looked so surprised to receive a gift that it made Amon’s heart squeeze sadly, trying to forget the other set of grey eyes that had viewed him with the same disbelieving gratefulness.   
  
The boy scampered off quickly enough, drawn to his disapproving mother’s side like a magnet, and Amon closed his eyes. He wondered if he should pray at the shrine. It felt strange to think of, considering the cross that weighed heavily around his neck, but he figured a visit couldn’t be a bad thing. His God only granted luck to the deserving, instead of giving them a chance to pull their own fortune ( _he wasn’t deserving, but he needed it_ ).   
  
Amon waited for his turn in line, bowing his head in thought. Whatever fortune he received from the omikuji, it would be his and his alone. He needed luck, yes, however he wasn’t the only one. Would a prayer apply to someone else? Was that something he could do? He struggled to remember, drawing only blanks.   
  
Once he arrived on the top steps of the shrine, Amon abruptly found himself with an omikuji in his hands. An old priestess smiled at him unnervingly, snow melting into her pure white hair.  
  
“Luck for yourself,”   
  
She said, pointing at the paper crumpling in his tightening fist,   
  
“And luck for the one you defend, if you choose it.”  
  
She finished, miming out a prayer and cocking an eyebrow at him ( _how did she…?_ ). Unsteadily, Amon choked out,   
  
“I’m catholic.”   
  
To which she responded,   
  
“But he’s not.”  
  
Amon drew in a sharp breath, feeling sweat begin to gather in his palms and on the back of his neck. It was alarming to be spoken to like this, in public, knowing that somebody knew his secret. She was eying him like Mado used to _(“you’re an open book, m’boy.”_ ) and he felt compelled to listen to her. He was nothing if not stubborn, however.   
  
“How do you know that?”  
  
He asked, trying to look a little more intimidating, towering over an old woman that was much more frightening than he could ever be. She laughed ( _like a dry rustle in the reeds_ ) and grasped his hands as if he were an old friend.   
  
“Someone came here at dawn, looking just as hunted as you do, and prayed in the snow for what felt like hours. He was beautiful, though only in the way all dying things are. I asked why his prayers did not seem like the were meant for him, since he didn’t look any happier after he finished them.”  
  
She whispered conspiratorially, completely ignoring the line of people behind Amon.   
  
“Do you know what he said?”  
  
She asked, knowing she had him hooked ( _her eyes sparkled with a storyteller’s mirth_ ),   
  
“’I was hoping to keep somebody safe. There are a lot of people I want to keep safe, but he’s someone I can’t be with physically. I owe him everything, though. I want- no, what I want doesn’t matter. I just hope this New Year can bring him back some of the happiness I took away.’ He said, just like the saints of old. When I asked him what you looked like, he humored me, especially since I said I’d bless you.”   
  
Amon’s heart was hammering inside of his chest so hard he wondered if he’d die. Eyepatch had been there ( _that meant he lived somewhere nearby! Was this ward his base of operations? Would he see him again?_ ) and had prayed for him ( _wanted him safe…said he couldn’t be with him physically_ ) as some sort of repentance ( _Eyepatch was wrong. He hadn’t just taken away his happiness, and if he had, Amon had done the same thing in return, a thousand times over_ ).   
  
“I…”   
  
Amon rasped, trying to get his throat to work (i _t felt like it was squeezing shut slowly and painfully_ ). The priestess chortled, placing her hand over his mouth to shut him up,   
  
“I’m going to bless you. If you find your foolish friend and if your prayers grant him good luck, may the both of you be free from suffering.”  
  
She smiled, the wicked fox-like edge to it fading as she removed her hand from his mouth, looking like just another old woman once more,   
  
“And may you ask him the questions on your mind. I know that he some for you as well.”   
  
She stated, then shooed him away.   
  
Amon trudged home, not sure what to think, and sat outside of his building for quite some time. He watched the snow fall and the people pass by, wondering what on Earth he had gotten himself into ( _he was in too deep already_ ). He was praying for the good health and safety of a ghoul who had done the same for him.  
  
It didn’t feel bad, though.   
  
As he turned and went inside, driven by the feeling of numbness in his fingers and nose, Amon caught a flash of white and black disappearing over the rooftops. It could have just been more snow. It could have been a trick of the light. It could…  
  
“Happy New Year, Eyepatch.”   
  
He murmured, shutting the door behind him.   
  
“Happy New Year, Investigator.”   
  
Was the reply, lost over the rooftops of the 20th ward.


End file.
